


One is the Loneliest Number

by RedBlackandBold



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Ficlet, M/M, ish?, remember that one headcanon that Volpe is immortal?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1889637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedBlackandBold/pseuds/RedBlackandBold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old soul, walking the earth for far too long, finds himself once again at an old church's graveyard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One is the Loneliest Number

The church’s graveyard held the oldest tombstones in the city. The words decorating the ornamental markers had long since been weathered by time and therefore remained enigmatic to the residents, but no one holding power had the heart to demolish them and destroy what was left of years long past. If one looked hard enough, they could make out birthdates or deathdates, (1476, 1504, 1524, 1527…) maybe a few letters, but never a full name. The people lay forgotten and anonymous under smoothed stone.

Forgotten by but one, that is.

He came every night, carrying with him weekly a bouquet of ten roses. On six graves he would lay a single rose; on one marked 1527, he set four. He was as mysterious as the graves themselves, never speaking a single word or making any sort of noise, appearing from nowhere and dissapearing just the same, covering his identity with a tattered, long, brown jacket with a strange, peaked hood. They had taken to calling him L’ombra.

He preferred La Volpe.

He knelt down next to 1527, glancing about him to make sure the graveyard was clear before smiling to the tombstone before him and offering it the remaining four roses. “It’s been an uneventful day, as usual,” he spoke softly through a long-suffering sigh, crouching before it. “I’ve grown weary of watching the people grow and discover, I find.” He fell silent, the smirk on his lips fading as he cast his eyes down the grave, lingering on its legible date, resting his gaze at the ground at his feet. “Almost five hundred years, mi amico…” The man glanced upwards once again, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “Five centuries since I’ve found myself alone on this earth.” He fell silent once more, collecting his thoughts and steeling himself against regrets and memories long past. “I shouldn’t have disappeared before you… You… Before. But then, what could I have done? People were growing suspicious. You heard the rumours yourself. We laughed.” He scoffed in spite of himself. “You are a logical man, a clever man, Niccolo. Why couldn’t you stand back and see the truth, as you always did? Did you never question why I never changed, as you weakened?” La Volpe looked up again, his unnaturally violet eyes searing holes into the tombstone. It offered only silence.

La Volpe laughed softly to himself. “Of course. You were never a man of unneeded words, my friend,” he said, standing. “Which made the words you deemed worthy all the more astounding, in my opinion.” La Volpe inclined his head, sizing up the tall cathedral, eyes continuing past its precarious top to the clear night sky just above. The tower was tall enough to see most of Rome; it would certainly serve his purpose just fine. “You will have to pardon my sentiment tonight, Niccolo. I know you aren’t fond of it. But… Tonight will be a special night, I think. A new beginning, as it were.” He started to wander away from the stone, facing the graveyard gates. “I don’t know why I haven’t tried before. The guild has long since faded off, and my travels ended much too long ago. There are no thieves for me to teach or assassins to guide in these years. Modern times have been cruel to our city, Niccolo.” He turned to the stone one last time, offering it a sad smile. “I just hope I succeed,” he murmured, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

La Volpe backed up a few more steps before taking off running, using a tall headstone as a vault to latch on to a windowsill ten feet up the cathedral. He effortlessly worked his way up the tower, reaching the top in under five minutes. The old fox crept on to an overhanging, decorative stonework, crouching at the very tip. Rome was always so beautiful, late at night, even after they replaced the lanterns with those damned electric lights. He hoped he would see the lanterns’ soft glow again… See all of Roma, as it once was… “We will meet again, caro mio,” he breathed. With one last look at the stars above him, La Volpe tensed and sprang from the ledge, into the night, diving for a nonexistent rooftop.

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another cross post from my tumblr, but this one's from my personal.


End file.
